The Lady of Pretence
by BellatrixBlackLovett
Summary: Isabella was born in the dark unwanted pits of the Victorian whore houses. Over the years she grows from a playful little maid into one of the most desired Harlot's in the whole of London. 'Till, one day, a man approaches her with an offer she could never refuse and allows him to whisk her away outside the City gates. (My own story, thoughts and ideas.)
1. White Bedsheets

_Authors notes: This is a story I've had in my head for many years now, yet never found the confidence to finally get it down on paper - or on the internet. Now the time seems right. I had no idea what group type I should place this story in, but here I am. All of the ideas, characters and settings have been made up in my mind for so long that I feel like I've known these people for years! I hope you enjoy. There will be some long chapters and extremely short ones. I work, a lot, and rarely have the time to get online anymore so don't worry if I vanish for a period of time - I shall return._

 _Throughout these chapters I like to match a song, or soundtrack, to each page. I suggest you listen said song when reading.. I find it helps with the emotion or settings._

 _Happy reading - BellatrixBlackLovett._

Chapter One 

White Bedsheets

"Bedsheets! Give me ya sheets! Hurry up and give me ya - ow!"

The sound of a thud rippled down a corridor, the floorboards bouncing under the sudden vibrations. It wasn't hard to see they were slowly rotting away and the sudden force of a young body thrown against them caused the ageing wood to groan with discomfort.

A white mess of bed sheets lay crumbled on the floor moving from side to side, the dirty fabric crunching with each tiny twitch from what seemed like a body underneath.

Close by a door swung open and more sheets were thrown on top of the moving pile. From the doorway stood a woman, dressed in only a corset and some shabby undergarments. She spoke with a heavy French accent and the displeasure in her tone was all to easy to hear.

"Do you 'ave any idea how early is it, Issa? Believe me when I say I 'ave no desire to 'ear your high pitched squeals at first light."

From under the sheets a tiny head popped into the light. A young girl of fourteen, her soot covered light blonde hair a mess and cheeks covered in fresh freckles tilted her head to one side and snorted. Isabella knew these halls and winding corridors better than anyone else. She was born within these four walls and now it was her job to tend to the women who kept a roof over her head. "Not my fault! I tripped over the sheets! And maybe ya shouldn't be sleeping in so late then, eh? Mumma says -"

"I couldn't give a damn what your mother says, child. Besides, I thought she was leaving, no?"

With a shrug of her shoulders the young girl sat up, the sheets falling from her shoulders. One of her tiny hands rubbed at her wrinkled nose - all of her dainty nails were thick with dirt and had been chewed on with determination. It wasn't any surprise, no one in London ever took care of themselves. The water was always dirty and only the rich could afford the luxury of a warm and steamy marble carved bathtub.

"Changed 're mind."

" _Again?_ Typical."

It was no secret that Isabella's mother was determined to leave this place. All she ever did was complain that the whore house was not good enough for her, that one day a man would come along and whisk her away. The only problem was there was never such a man in a place this and within hours her mother's mind would be changed with a little extra coin in her purse.

"Well, I aint going anywhere... I like it 'ere!" Isabella stated, nodding her head purposely, as she rose to her feet and gathered up the dirty sheets within her thin and bendy arms. The dress she wore was stained and worn from years of being passed down. Her own tiny stitches could be seen as the young girl tried so hard to save the moth bitten dark blue material.

Her large blue eyes didn't miss the smirk on the older harlot's face or the snort of amusement erupting from her inflamed nostrils. Isabella was used to the teasing from them all. They all picked on her for wishing to stay in the whore house, yet it was the only place Isabella had known. This was the place she had been born in, her home where she was kept hidden from the dangerous outside.

"Stay 'ere?!" The French harlot let out an ugly shrill laugh as she turned her back to Isabella and let herself back into her room. Through the crack in the door the young girl could just about make out the figure of a half naked man in the bed, his swallow snoring blurred against the pillow. "What kind of a man would want to pay for a little messy _child_ , like you! Silly, silly.. nothing but le daughter of a whore!"

"At least I aint stinking of those frogs legs ya shove down ya big mouth!" Isabella snapped back, poking her tongue out through her rosy little lips. The scowl on her face could've had the power to strike down the older whore. "If ya sheets come back smelling like the pigs than ya know why!"

Before she could get a beating little Izzy ran, her bare feet pounding on the boards, the white sheets in her weak arms whipped out behind her like some magical cape that was about to send her flying into the smoke filled air of London. By the time she had fled to the washroom in the cellar she had managed to awake the whole house. All of them yelled out her name in frustration before their anger was thrown towards Isabella's mother - who had promised them all that her _darling_ young daughter would be gifted with the biggest beating she had even had the pleasure of receiving in her lifetime.

And the mother was true to her word. That night Isabella was given ten hard slaps to her backside and sent to her corner of the room which she shared with several other children, all born from the wombs of the working whores, without any dinner. Never once did she cry. Crying got her nowhere. Even after the lashings she yelled out that it didn't hurt before returning to her last few duties of the night.

Once the children were finally settled in the beds they shared did Isabella take her usual spot by the window and watched the whores stand out in the dark streets, luring the men close with a flash of their chests or thighs. Their drunken laughter filled the air as they stumbled about. With heavy eyes Isabella observed, learnt the way her fellow house shares moved and flirted. Izzy wasn't as silly as they all made her out to be and one day she vowed to show that.

She even forgot about the growling hunger growing within her belly as the curiosity took over her mind.


	2. The Highest Bidder

_Authors Notes: Warning for this chapter, there is a bit of abuse and sexual thoughts and feelings. This is what happened to those poor girls all those years ago; we can defiantly count ourselves lucky we do not have to live to survive like this anymore._

 _Song for this chapter: Mistake of Your Life from The Duchess, by Rachel Portman._

 **Chapter Two**

 **The Highest Bidder**

Tension had been developing in the thick, clammy air of the Brothel. No longer did crowds of paying customers filter through the doors, the laughter was dying and the music had become slow and draining on the ears. Money was quickly becoming an issue. So many ladies had taken to the streets of London, lifting their skirts for half the price of the house kept Harlots. Men were all too happy to pay a lower price for a few minutes of pleasure - yet little did they know that these street ladies had been passing illness from one innocent customer to another. With the fear of a life threatening disease spreading fast through the city streets the customers had turned and ran, leaving the brothel whores in ruin.

Mistress Eva was one of the most quick minded and sly women from the dark pits of London. She proudly owned, at one time, several Brothels across the riverbanks. Yet with money draining from her pockets she was forced to sell. Now her thin and aged hands could barely cling onto her last and most prized house.

Both of her eyes had become dark and thick with the need to sleep. Upon her frail old body was a well kept silk woven black dress - it was the only colour the harlots had ever seen her in, they all guessed she was married at one point in her long lifetime. Thick grey hair was pulled tightly upon her head and her dry lips twisted with displeased pleasure. A pipe rested in-between her left fingers, the white smoke twisting and dancing before her, till it managed to escape out of a crack in the nearest soot covered window.

"We are getting desperate now, Eva."

Pacing the length of the room was a tiny figure of a man around forty years of age. A thick black beard upon his face twitched each time he spoke, the seriousness of the matter clear to see in the deep rolls of a frown. Ben Tipper was his name, the son of a whore and Eva's right hand man. Seeing the fall of the business caused him to act out, to save his Mistress and the harlots who kept his job running.

"Don't you think I know that, Tipper?" Eva sighed, bringing her pipe up to her mouth, inhaling in a lungful of the deadly smoke.

Without second thought Ben bowed his head apologetically before carrying on with his heavy pacing.

Outside the door of Mistress Eva's private rooms was young Isabella. In her tiny little hands was a frayed skipping rope that she easily flung over her head, jumping in time with the song she sung out. "The Mister wasn't very nice cos he beat his darlin' Wife!"

The quiet rooms allowed her to finally play in peace, without the worry of getting in the way of the old paying guests. If she lost them a profit there was be Hell to pay and her poor backside could not take another beating.

"There must be something, just something we can do to get this place back on it's feet, Ma'am..." Still Tipper paced, rubbing at his beard in thought.

"One day the Wife took up a knife!" The singing got louder, the slams of Isabella's bare feet slapping harder against the shaking floorboards.

"There is nothing, Ben, nothing! I'm losing money.. I'll be forced to close."

Eva smoked harder, the noise of that damned child echoed within her troubled mind as each plan Tipper put to her was quickly pushed aside.

"Hidden beneath 'er pillow late at night, she -"

"Isabella! Shut your damned mouth before I beat you into next week, girl!"

Mistress Eva snapped slamming down her red glowing pipe onto a table. No longer could she listen to that infernal song, it was causing her head to throb. Outside the room little Isabella fell silent and dropped her rope to the floor. No one would ever let her play around here. All week people had been yelling at her when all she was trying to do was have a little fun. Everyone seemed on edge.

Her rosey lips pouted as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. In frustration she slammed down on foot before rushing off to find somewhere new and more private to play her little games.

"I wish at times I had been harder on my girls. I should've turned them out on the streets as soon as their stomachs started to sprout out a growing child." Eva muttered, rubbing her temples and taking up her pipe once again. At times she envied the carefree spirits of the young. They had no idea of the hardships of life and the trouble of making money to survive.

Throughout the singing and the angered screams of his Mistress, Tipper found himself watching little Izzy, his eyes flicking over her face, watching the way her young body moved and twisted without a care in the world. He had seen so many young children, just like her, out in the streets begging for a scrap of bread. Yet, there was something different about this daughter of a whore. Maybe, just maybe, she could be put to use for once.

"That's it! I've got it!"

With an excited smile upon his face Ben rushed over to his Mistress, and sat down at her side. Still she smoked away, the need to carry on slowly dripping off her winkled face. To her it was already over.

"Listen to me, Eva, and listen well. I was down at the whore house by Whitehall a few months back - checking out the others girls and minding how their business went. I do like to keep an eye on the competition, ya know? Anyway, there was this massive crowd gathering about the place and in the middle of it all was a girl I've never seen before. True, to the gossip about the place she was young and beautiful, yet not as young as they made 'er out to be. Claimed she was a virgin, a pure white Lily. Now, I've worked in this house long enough to tell the difference between a virgin and a whore, and believe me that girl knew what she was doing."

Eva turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "And the men fell for it, yes?"

"Like a moth to a flame, Ma'am!" His Mistress scoffed, muttering the word ' _typical_ ' before inhaling the smoke once again. "Anyway, they paraded 'er about for a bit.. Dressed all in white with roses in her hair, she did look the part I must say. Then it started.. they were bidding on her. All these fat men around me offering handfuls of coins and notes. In the end she sold for thirteen pounds! Could you imagine what we could do with thirteen pounds right now? It'd save us! All we would need is a -"

"A _virgin_?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"And where in God's name am I going to get a pure -"

It was then her servants brilliant idea finally clicked. Thirteen pounds would restore this rotting shell of a house back to its once former glory all those years ago. The customers would come running back in, the coins would be thrown into the air without a second thought, and the cellar would be stocked with only the most sweetest wines that London had to offer. Oh, how splendid! All they needed now was a pure white dress and to get the word around the streets that the most supple and tender child was to finally be made a woman by the highest bidder.

"Tipper, you clever, clever man. I shall see you are truly rewarded for this. Now, go tell our white flower of her soon to be future. Darling little Isabella.. she has no idea what it about to hit her."

 **...**

Three days later everything was set. As the sunlight vanished behind the thick smoke of the London air the once loyal and faithful customers came flooding back through the open doors of the Brothel. Candles littered every room and white sheets had been hung about the place to symbolise the purity of the gift soon to come. So many greedy and revolting eyes wondered about, in hope of catching a glimpse of their little white flower, whose petals were to soon be plucked by their sweaty fat hands.

Little did they know that their Virgin had been trained over the last few evenings by the other harlots and even her own mother who watched her only daughter learn the ways of how to flirt, seduce and touch a man. Never once did the thought of how wrong it all was cross her devilish mind; there was money to be made from this and it was about time her childish offspring finally became a woman and was put to work.

"Now, 'member to touch him like this..."

"You must act all shy, like ya don't really know what ya doing, and ya sweet to his touch only."

"Izzy, don' forget to blush!"

"And smile! Show 'em that little childish smile of yers!"

The chorus of women bounced off the walls in one of the private bedchambers. All of them swarmed around young Isabella, adding blush to her plump cheeks, tightening her pure white dress, adding little dainty flowers into her now clean and curly hair. She was the purest picture of a Virgin anyone of them had ever seen. Her bare toes twisted together, the frustration growing on her face as they pushed and pulled her about.

"I know! I know what m'doing!" The little Lily cried out, pushing back their hands as they fussed with her appearance. "Don't go making me look like a doll. I'll hardly look all young when ya keep putting so much powder on me face. Leave me be!"

Isabella had seen how the harlots had worked for years and throughout that time had picked up on their habits and ways with men. She had taken it upon herself at times to pretend to flirt with her own reflection in a mirror, it seemed like awful hard work just for a few pennies. Alas, the harlots were pleased with her work and knew it was time for her to be sold on.

By seven o'clock the moonlight had risen above the clouds and the men were becoming restless. Their groans of displeasure and frustration for waiting could be heard all around the brothel. It was then Mistress Eva took place at the front of the crowds and opened both arms wide, a smile clear upon her battered face.

"Gentlemen! Gather around, gather around, for I know you are all desperate to see our young price! Fear not, she will be here for you to do with as you wish in a matter of moments."

Sniggers and laughter radiated from the crowd.

"First, as always, business before pleasure!" Eva carried on, her beady little eyes flicking towards the notes of money each and everyone of them gripped tightly in their fingers. "Our little pure Lily will be brought out soon enough. You may look, but no touching just yet my kind Sir's, for her touch must only be for the highest bidder from you filthy, filthy bastards!"

Once again laughter burst from each and every one of their smoke filled lungs as they watched Eva pace around. To them it was all a game and never once did it occur to them that a young girl was soon to be sold on like a pig at market.

"Now, my darling men, I give you, Isabella.."

A door swung open and the room fell silent. Standing in the threshold, dressed all in white with her tiny eyes darting from man to man, was Isabella. Each and every one of her youthful fingers twisted together as the nerves froze her to the ground. If it wasn't for Ben giving her a sharp push towards the front of the crowds then there was no doubt Izzy would've turned and ran like her life depended on it.

They all watched her with vile expressions upon their ugly faces. The beasts grew inside them all.

"Now, where shall we begin, gentlemen?" Eva spoke out, turning little Isabella's chin up so her pretty face could be seen in the dancing light of the candles.

"Two pounds!"

"Four pounds!"

They grew louder with each bid, all of them pushing towards the front in the hope of getting a better look over at their possible prize. Eva cackled at their poor attempts, her mocking only causing them to bid higher.

"Seven pounds, Eva!"

"Seven pounds, are you joking?! I bid eleven for that pretty little thing!"

"She's mine, dear fellow! Ten pounds!"

Isabella found herself shrinking as the money increased along with their rowdiness. No one told her how frightening it could all be. After all, she was only a child.

"Twenty pounds!"

All of a sudden the room fell silent. The crowds parted as a middle aged man stepped forward, holding a note close to his chest, his eyes focused on nothing else but young Isabella. Her slender neck arched to one side and locked both eyes upon his face; at least he wasn't hideously ugly as some of the other swine in this room.

"Here... twenty pounds for the White Lily, Madame." The note was placed before Mistress Eva's nose. "Take it now and let's be done with this endless bidding. It is getting us nowhere."

With haste the note was snatched up and shoved down the front of Eva's black dress. "Sold, for twenty pounds! Now, take your prize, Sir!"

 **...**

The excitement and lively atmosphere of the bidding room vanished as soon as Isabella was taken upstairs by her winner. He climbed the stairs with seer determination, holding his young flower tightly within his arms like a new born babe. The thought of claiming his prize, his reward, was starting to cloud over his mind. The thoughts running through him could curdle the stomachs of any half decent man in this world.

Now standing on her feet, Isabella stood in the corner of her own private room, given to her by Mistress Eva for finally becoming one of the working girls. Within these four walls she could do whatever she wished, and it was mighty fine not having to share a bed with several other children; though instead she now had to share it with customers.

The man undressed with a needy speed, pulling his shirt over his head and flicking off his shoes so they landed the other side of the room. Never once did he look at the child, not even when she stepped forward and poured him a glass on wine from a bottle placed on the bedside table.

"M'mighty glad ya picked me, Sir. I must say ya one of the better looking fellows out of that lot."

With a tender fake sigh she sat down on the bed and watched him carefully. Every thought of what she must do started to muddle inside her, the seriousness of it all was becoming clearer as one of his hands suddenly gripped at one of her thin shoulders. Briefly he drunk the wine she offered before throwing the glass to one side. Wild need started to grace his once calm and regal face.

"I-I hope ya will be kind to me, Sir. M'mother said it will hurt something awful!"

"Your mother? She's a whore too then?" He chuckled wickedly at her brief nod. "Like mother like daughter, ha! Well, _child_ , your mother is completely right. It will hurt."

"S-Sir?"

Before she could move he had thrown her down onto the bed, ripping at her once beautiful dress to reveal her pubescent body before his own hideous need was tugged out from within his briefs. Her struggle was pointless against his strength. When one of his large hands became free it was used to cover up her mouth, muffling her cries of panic.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still."

Without warning he took her. Took away her childhood, her sweetness and youth as she cried and screamed underneath his weight. In just one night Isabella was changed completely. There was no future for her any more. The pain of it lasted two days in a row and yet her ordeal was far from over. During the course of the week she was re-sold to several other men as a 'pure and humble young virgin with no experience of the harsh world around her'. Each time the emotions and fear within her became duller and the reality of what was to become of her life finally set in.

Each night she would dance, drink and seduce the men before leading them away to her tiny corner of the brothel to lie quietly underneath them and pretend to enjoy her work in the hope of extra coin.

The child within her had died. Now she was nothing to them but their White Lily, whose petals they had all bruised and crushed under the force of their naked bodies and wicked minds.


End file.
